electroma
remember high school? no? um, let’s pretend that you do. imagine you became friends with the cool kid—the sunny, hilarious, mellow kid who got good grades without trying, maybe was a star forward on the soccer team, brought a stereo to wendy’s after school once and breakdanced to a remix of “hungry like the wolf.” remember that? you love this kid. everyone loves him. maybe he’s french.
then one day, he takes you aside and says, “hey, i’ve been working on this thing, do you want to check it out,” and you, excited, say, “sure!,” expecting something off-the-wall, effervescing with his irreproducible absurdity and warmth, and he hands you a sheet of notebook paper that says:
desolation
i am loneliness,
child of the waste,
my days are empty
at night i THE VOID consume myself
i am the treacling blood and ichor and the colorless crawling DEATH
also i will never have a girlfriend
etc etc., and you look up at him, expecting that this is a joke, except it is not. no, he seems to be serious. your opinion has changed totally. he is no longer the shining beacon you thought he was. he is just a kid like you, with the same maudlin melodramatic emotional palette. FUCKDAMMIT.
FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.
this was how we felt after watching ELECTROMA, the recent film by daft punk. matt and i were very, very fired up to see this movie:
me: around the world around the worruld / around the world around the worruld
matt: doot doot / doot / doo doooooo! / na na neeeeew! na na neeew!
me: around the world around the worruld / around the world around the worruld
matt: doot doot / doot / doo doooooo! / na na neeeeew! na na neeew!
me: around the world around the worruld / around the world around the worruld
matt: doot doot / doot / doo doooooo! / na na neeeeew! na na neeew!
me: around the w
heather: OH MY GOD STOP.
and then, it turned out to be a little different.
here’s a synopsis of the movie:
robots drive through desert
robots enter a lab and have big fake rubber human faces glued to their helmets
robots are persecuted by other robots
robots remove melting human faces
robots wander through desert
one robot commits suicide by exploding
other robot sets fire to self:
fin. 80 minutes of my life. this is not the daft punk i know and love. this daft punk has undergone a lobotomy. is it really still provocative to make a film about robots wanting to be human? hasn’t that ground already been covered by steven spielberg? and haley stupid joel osment? holy baskets of fuck.
some of the shots were beautiful, but mostly it was a very, very slow-moving movie about robots, which is a contradiction in terms that isn’t even that exciting. robots should be zipping around! being efficient! perhaps having comically formulaic social encounters at high rates of speed! with insane dance music in the background!
also there should be boobs.
in conclusion: i paid $12 to see that movie, and i want $10 back. i’d ask for all $12, but i don’t want to be a jerk.
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unrelated: robbie and i are laying some groundwork these days for a MIGHTY BLOG EMPIRE, including a spinoff of the stuffwhitepeoplelike entry called “About Your Blog.” essentially this blog does free-wheeling critiques of other faddish and trendy blogs. mostly i’m just writing about this today to show off my design for it:
i’ll have some inestimable fame and wealth, please.
You’re currently reading “electroma”, an entry on jesse andrews dot com
- Published:
- 02.28.08 / 10am
- Category:
- blog
- Tags:
- art films, daft punk, electronica, my high school prom